


On My Own No More

by Howlingdawn



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shazam! (2019) Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: When Mary discovers that Billy can sing, she encourages him to enter their school's talent show. He's terrified.





	On My Own No More

**Author's Note:**

> So I knew that Zachary Levi could sing, but then a few days ago I discovered Asher Angel could sing too, and, well, my new favorite Billy headcanon was born. So enjoy 3.3k words about it!
> 
> There's one tiny reference to my fic Carnival Panic, but you don't need to read that to understand this

Mary took out her earbuds and stretched with a sigh of relief. Most of the family had gone to the park for the day, but she had stayed behind to work on her English essay. Which, three hours later, she had finally finished. And, as if sensing her triumph, her stomach growled hungrily.

_I think I've earned a brownie or two._

She set her laptop aside and hopped off her bed to go bake some. When she opened the door, she froze.

Mary wasn't the only one who had stayed home today. Billy had sprained his ankle during a superhero scuffle the other day, and was now pretty much confined to the living room to rest it. So, when she heard his guitar strumming, she wasn't terribly surprised. He'd asked for lessons a few weeks after settling in with them, and he was devoted to the new hobby. He had a knack for it too, improving quickly as the months wore on, and Mary enjoyed listening to his practice sessions from afar, even oft interrupted as they were by Billy swearing when he messed up and Rosa, Victor, or Darla scolding him for it.

But now, she didn't just hear his guitar strumming. His voice too floated through the house, soft and slow and beautiful, twining with the notes of his guitar to create a melody that stole Mary's breath. _"There's gotta be another way out, I've been stuck in a cage with my doubt. I've tried forever getting out on my own…"_

Mary crept down the stairs, wincing every time she made even the tiniest noise. Billy never noticed, and she made it safely to the living room. He sat on the couch, injured left foot propped up on a footrest, his right foot planted on the floor. He leaned over his guitar, and from this angle, Mary could just barely see the ease with which his fingers worked the strings, the way his eyes were closed as he let himself revel in the music, his mouth curving into a content smile.

_"Every little thing that I've known, is everything I need to let go. You're so much bigger than the world I have made…"_

Mary tried to creep closer, to try to better see his face. Until her hip bumped a little side table piled high with Darla's craft supplies. She lunged, trying to catch it, but it all went clattering to the floor with a loud crash. Billy jumped, whipping around to face her, grabbing the neck of his guitar like a club. "What the _hell_ , Mary?!"

She grinned sheepishly, straightening up as smoothly as she could as more markers fell from the table. "Uh, hi, Billy!"

He shifted his grip on his guitar back to normal, trying and failing to look calm. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Mary left the mess for later, moving over to the couch. "I doubt you would've heard me even if I hadn't. You looked pretty happy."

"I was just concentrating."

"I've seen you concentrating," Mary said. "That wasn't that face."

Billy cleared his throat. "How much did you hear?"

"Not enough. That was really good, Billy."

He ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. "I'm not that good."

"Yes, you are," Mary insisted, leaning down to try to look him in the eye. "What I just heard was real talent, Billy, both the playing and the singing."

He finally dared to look at her, biting his lip. "You think so?"

Mary laid her hand over his. "I do."

A smile flickered across his face, tiny and nervous but glowing. "Do you- do you wanna hear the rest?"

"What song is it?"

"Um, a slower acoustic version of On My Own by Ashes Remain. My- my instructor's been helping me with it."

Mary smiled, nodding. "Play on."

Billy took a deep, shaky breath as he adjusted his guitar. His fingers trembled a little over the first few notes, but quickly he fell back into the rhythm. His voice came out steady and soft, and as the song wore on, his smile returned, his contentment weaving into the music. Mary beamed, reveling in this new, secret side of her newest brother.

It ended all too soon. Mary clapped enthusiastically. "Billy, that was beautiful!"

Billy's smile stayed as he looked down at the guitar, but the contentment faded out, replaced by something sadder, more nostalgic. "I've never sang for anyone before."

"How did you get into it?" Mary asked.

"I, um…" He ran his forefinger lightly along one string. "I used to sing myself to sleep, when I lived on the streets. It… it made me feel a little less lonely."

Mary leaned over to gently kiss the top of his head, resting her hand on his back. "You're not alone anymore."

He smiled, dropping his head onto her shoulder. "I know."

She squeezed his shoulder and stood. "All that singing must have made you thirsty. You want some water?"

"Soda?" he asked hopefully.

"Water. Unless you want to walk to get it yourself?"

He pouted. "Maryyyyy."

Mary shook her head with a chuckle. She was filling a glass with water when she spotted a pamphlet on the counter, its front page dominated by a headline about their school's talent show. An idea popped into Mary's head and she grabbed it, bringing it back to Billy with his water. "Here."

He took the water gratefully but looked confused by the pamphlet. "I forgot this was even a thing. Why are you giving it to me?"

She gestured at the guitar. "You should sign up."

His eyes widened. "Uh, no, no I should not."

She sat beside him again. "Billy, you have a real talent here. You should embrace it!"

"Not in front of the whole school!"

"Don't think of it like that," Mary said. "Think of it like… announcing you're home. You started singing to feel less alone, and now you can use it to claim that this is your school, your home, your family. Signing up for this talent show, making your presence known, means you're setting down roots for the first time since you were little."

Billy bit his lip. "I don't… I don't know."

"Just think about it. Please?"

After a long moment, he nodded.

\-----

Late that night, when everyone had gone off to bed, Billy reached underneath of his pillow to pull out the pamphlet. In the meager light of his phone screen, he read through the details over and over, until the words blurred together and he wasn't reading anymore, but remembering.

_At all of nine years old, Billy curled up in the corner of a decrepit abandoned house's living room. He drew his jacket tightly around him, struggling to find a comfortable way to use his backpack as a pillow. His stomach growled, making him think longingly of his mom's grilled cheese sandwiches with a secret ingredient._

_"Where are you?" he whispered into the empty room, his voice cracking from the tears he'd already shed. "Where are you, Mom?"_

_No one answered. No one ever did. Only the dreams that haunted him, the embers of hope he refused to let die. He would find her. One day, he would find his mom._

_But here, now, he was alone. There was no one to keep him warm and fed, no one to hear his cries, no one to hug the pain away._

_He remembered the song his mom used to sing when he couldn't sleep. In a trembling voice, he started to sing._ "Slumber sweetly my dear, for the angels are near… to watch over you the silent night through…"

_He hugged himself a little tighter and closed his eyes, singing until sleep could take him._

The memory stung more than ever, knowing now that his mother had abandoned him, that he had spent almost his whole life searching for her only to find out she had given up looking for him long ago. Ten years of searching amounted to ten years wasted, wasted on a dream that was doomed to die the moment it finally came true.

_But then, they weren't really wasted years, were they? You wouldn't be here if you hadn't kept looking. You wouldn't have Mary, or Freddy, or Victor, or Rosa, or Darla, or Pedro, or Eugene. You wouldn't be a superhero. You would just be little Billy, alone and wondering what had happened to his mom, holding out a useless hope._

He hugged close the stuffed dragon Rosa and Victor had won him at their first carnival visit as a family, staring at the pamphlet. Maybe Mary had a point. Singing was something he had devoted to remembering a mother who gave him up. This talent show could be his way to say that that was over, that singing was _his_ hobby, and that by doing it in front of them, he was performing for his _real_ family.

Billy looked down at Mr. Snugglesworth. "Am I really doing this?"

The dragon stared silently back.

\-----

The next morning, Mary was slinging her backpack over her shoulder and biting into a granola bar, ready to head to school, when Billy pulled her aside. He backed into a corner, glancing around warily before saying quietly, "I'll do it."

Mary's eyes widened. "You will?" she exclaimed.

"Shh!" he hissed, looking around again and flashing a strained smile when Pedro glanced curiously at them. "I will, so long as you don't tell them."

Mary furrowed her brows. "But I thought this was about-"

"It is," Billy said. "I'm doing this for my family. I just… I don't wanna disappoint them if I back out."

Mary smiled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders to lead him out the door. "You won't disappoint us, Billy. You never do."

Billy paled a little.

\-----

The show was a month away. Mary spent the month helping him practice, finding excuses to get them away from the rest of the family, encouraging him when he faltered. But as the weeks dragged on, she watched the bags under his eyes darken and knew he was losing sleep over it. "You don't have to go through with this," she broached one day on the subway. "It's your voice. Your choice."

Billy sighed, leaning his head back against the window. "No, you were right. I've avoided stuff like this my whole life – no clubs, no sports, no friends – because I was always waiting to go home. Committing to this is how I say I'm finally there."

Mary took hold of his hand and squeezed. "You've got this."

Billy squeezed back, running through the lyrics under his breath.

\-----

The day finally came, and it took a _lot_ of convincing to get the entire family to go. Eugene almost literally tried to glue himself to his chair and laptop while Freddy bemoaned the pointlessness of watching a bunch of kids perform only for seniors to always win. But with Rosa, Victor, and Darla's help, Mary managed to wrangle all of her siblings into the audience. Freddy and Darla began immediately asking where Billy was, and Mary slipped away with a vague response to go to him.

She joined him backstage. He clutched his guitar in a death grip, staring at the stage with terror written all over his snow white face. "I-I don't think I can do this."

"C'mere," Mary said, guiding him to an empty chair. She started running her fingers through his hair, fixing what the windy day outside had messed up. "You know this song by heart. You've got this."

"I've never done…" he gestured towards the audience, "this."

Mary knelt before him, squeezing his shoulders. "Don't think about it," she advised. "I've seen you when you're singing. You lose yourself in it and forget the world around you. Just let that happen. Take a deep breath, start playing, and let the music flow. Ok?"

"What if I can't?" he whispered.

Mary nudged his chin up, took him by the arms and pulled him to his feet. "You are Billy Batson. You overcame the streets and a mother who left you to find the family you belong with. You fight crime and save lives almost every day. I know you have it in you to do this too – you just have to find your courage."

He looked at her, eyes wide, and then they were calling his name. She urged him forward, smoothing wrinkles out of his shirt. "You can do this, Billy. I believe in you. We all do."

He glanced back at her, swallowed, and stepped onto the stage.

\-----

Billy perched on the stool, very deliberately looking at the crowd before him as little as possible. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, fingers trembling as he tried to hold the pick and adjust his grip on his guitar. His mouth had gone dry beneath the weight of hundreds of eyes waiting to judge him, hyperaware of every millisecond he made them wait.

_Take a deep breath._

Billy took a deep breath, hating how it shuddered.

_Start playing._

He forced his fingers to move, finding the chords and strumming. Noise burst awkwardly from the guitar. He winced.

_Let the music flow._

It wasn't flowing. He couldn't find the rhythm he'd practiced for weeks on end, couldn't find the notes rehearsal after rehearsal had carved into his brain. They were watching him, so many people were watching him, he couldn't do this, he would fail himself, fail his family-

_My family._

_Find your courage._

Billy forced his eyes up and into the audience. He found his family amongst a sea of half-recognized and nameless faces, found Mary hurrying to take her seat, Darla flashing him an encouraging pair of thumbs up, Pedro taking his earbuds out for once, Freddy glaring at a couple people in front of him muttering to each other as Billy's pause stretched on, Eugene leaning over to make sure Victor was doing a good job filming it on his phone, and Rosa beaming proudly even as Billy faltered.

_You won't disappoint us, Billy. You never do._

_It doesn't matter. They're already proud of me, and none of these other people matter. All I have left to prove is that I'm not a scared little kid anymore. All I have to do is sing._

_Take a deep breath._

Billy took a deep, steady breath.

_Start playing._

He found the chords and strummed confidently.

_Let the music flow._

He slipped into the rhythm he'd memorized, his fingers steadying as he continued playing. His eyes drifted shut, and the music began to surround him. The world faded away, until he could pretend the stool was his couch, the room was his living room, the audience was just his big sister. He smiled, and the lyrics began to flow.

_"Bring me out, come and find me in the dark now. Every day by myself I'm breaking down. I don't wanna fight alone anymore."_

He heard an enthusiastic whoop from Eugene, quickly shushed by Rosa, and he smiled brighter.

_"Every little thing that I've known, is everything I need to let go. You're so much bigger than the world I have made."_

The memories of singing to himself on dark street corners and in empty houses melted away, replaced by days in the park with Mary, laughing in the sunshine, her voice always encouraging him.

_"So I surrender my soul, I'm reaching out for your hope. I lay my weapons down. I'm ready for you now."_

His heartbeat was steady now, strengthened by his courage. He opened his eyes and found his family again, looking at each one of their stunned, proud expressions. _"I don't wanna be incomplete. I remember what you said to me: I don't have to fight alone."_

His gaze fell last on Victor and the phone filming him. He'd never had anyone who cared enough to film him before, but he knew this video would be treasured forever. As the song wound down, he sang straight into that camera, making sure they knew this song was meant for them.

_"Bring me out, come and find me in the dark now. Every day by myself I'm breaking down. I don't wanna fight alone anymore. Bring me out from the prison of my own pride, my God, I need a hope I can't deny. In the end I'm realizing… I was never meant to fight on my own."_

He played the last few notes, letting the song fade into silence. He sat back, panting a little, and for a moment, the silence stretched on.

Then Mary leapt to her feet, bursting into enthusiastic applause. Rosa was a heartbeat behind, followed by the rest of his cheering family and, a moment later, the rest of the audience. Billy grinned and rose, giving a little bow as he took a moment to revel in the applause. Then, starting to blush a little, he headed backstage to more congratulations from teachers and other performers.

_I could get used to this._

\-----

As Billy left the stage, the applause began to die down. Mary sank back into her seat, her cheeks aching from the broadness of her grin, remembering watching the courage spark in Billy's eyes and spread to the rest of him as he found his courage in them. All the frustrated rehearsing, the lack of sleep, the fight he put up when she insisted on covering the bags under his eyes with her makeup – it had all been worth it.

It had all led to him embracing what and who he loved, finally owning who he was for everyone to see.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Freddy smacking her arm. "You knew about this, didn't you? _Didn't you_?"

Mary laughed at her siblings' faces, expressions ranging from awe to betrayal to disbelief. "Yes, yes I did."

Freddy smacked her again. "How _dare_ you not tell us!"

Mary sat back, grin morphing into a smirk. "I wanted to see your faces. And it was _so_ worth it."

This time, when Freddy slapped her, she slapped back. Rosa and Victor were oblivious, squeeing over the video of their newest son singing to them.

\-----

Billy endured a billion questions fired at him from all directions during the entire ride home, but he didn't care. He just stared proudly at the trophy in his hand. It was a tiny, cheap plastic thing with a ripped piece of paper with his name written in pencil taped to the base, and every performer had gotten the same thing, but he didn't care about that either. It was the first time he had ever won something like this.

The trophy was crap, but it was his. For doing what he loved for who he loved.

Mary hugged him before he could go into his room. "I knew you could do it."

Billy smiled, leaning into her hug. "Thanks for making me."

"Eh, you did all the hard work. I just made the path as easy as I could."

"Exactly. Thank you."

Mary smiled, giving his forehead a light kiss. "Any time. Now go get some sleep, kiddo."

He nodded, and she ruffled his hair as he went gladly to obey, exhausted in the wake of the stress of the last month. But first, he went to the desk he and Freddy shared. On it sat a framed family photo, everyone throwing up bunny ears and making ridiculous faces. He settled the trophy beside it.

_I sing for this now. For us. Not my mother. Never again._

_I'm right where I belong._

Freddy slugged him in the arm. "That was seriously amazing dude, but if you ever hide something like that from me again, I _will_ zap you."

Billy laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Watch me."

_Yeah. Right where I belong._

**Author's Note:**

> The lullaby is Brahms' Lullaby by Chloe Agnew


End file.
